


Second Chances

by lifeofafandomatic



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, F/M, First Dates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-06-08 20:07:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6871519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofafandomatic/pseuds/lifeofafandomatic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma’s all but given up on the hope of finding love five years after Neal left her, but a certain Killian Jones might just be the one to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured it’s about time I contribute to the CS crew, so have this AU! The parallels between this prompt and their situation kind of jumped out at me, so I figured I’d write about it. This was originally going to be a oneshot, but this story took on a life of its own. The title comes from the Imagine Dragons song of the same name. Enjoy!

Emma Swan knew about hope all too well. She wasn’t a very big fan of it.

As a kid, all she had was hope. She lived through every day with her heart full of hope and her head full of fantasies. Even if she didn’t have a family, she dreamed of the day someone would love her enough to adopt her. She finally decided hope was overrated when she reached her teens, when it was evident that no one would love her.

Then, Neal Cassidy had to come along and give her hope all over again.  He had to come into her life and fill her with hope and the possibility of a family, with hope that she could be loved.

She would never forget how it felt when Neal left her. It felt like her world had shattered, like she was damaged irreversibly. Even worse than what she felt was the look on their son’s face. He was 10 when it happened.

Emma still wasn’t sure why Neal had decided to leave. All she remembered from that night was that he’d made up some bullshit reason about not being able to be around her anymore. She still didn’t believe what he’d said, and where he was now, she told herself she didn’t particularly care.

From that day, she’d vowed to herself that she’d never let herself hope any longer. Hope only leads to hurt, and anyways, she had Henry to look out for. He’d pestered her for weeks about where his dad had gone, and why he hadn’t come back. Emma finally broke down one night and had to tell him that Neal didn’t care about them anymore, and he wouldn’t be coming back.

If she thought she had it bad, Henry took it a lot worse. He isolated himself after she’d told him, and only opened up again when Emma convinced him that they could do just fine on their own, just the two of them. After that, Henry started to hope again.

As for Emma, she kept herself closed off unless she was around Henry, the rest of her family, or her close friends. She was especially wary about opening her heart up again, because she didn’t want to deal with the pain of losing someone again, nor did she want to get her hopes up in case something did go wrong.

The incident with Neal was five years ago. Henry seemed to be faring well, and Emma continued to distance herself from hope and the idea of falling in love again. Storybrooke was a small town, so almost everyone knew about what had happened between her and Neal.

Almost.

“Who’s that man you keep talking to?” Henry asked one night at dinner.

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

“Y’know, the guy who lives down the hall from us? I think he works at the docks.”

“Oh, I think I know who you mean.” He must have been referring to Killian Jones, the newest resident of Storybrooke. The memory of their first conversation was still fresh in her mind….

_She met him after coming back from her morning run attempting to haul a box up the stairs but not getting very far. “Need some help with that?” she offered, picking up the other side of the box._

_“Aye, I’d appreciate it.”_

_“First day, huh?” she asked conversationally as they ascended._

_“First hour, actually.”_

_“First_ hour _,” she repeated incredulously. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen much of the town, then.”_

 _“I’ve_ seen _plenty, but I haven’t noticed much else other than the sign, the clock tower, and this building. Well, here we are.”_

_As Emma was catching her breath, she noticed the very familiar number of the door opposite her. “Oh, I’m on this floor, too.”_

_“Well, I guess that makes us neighbours.”_

_“I guess it does.” She stuck her hand out. “I’m Emma Swan.”_

_“Killian Jones.” He grasped her hand and shook it firmly. “Swan, you said?” It was strange, hearing someone address her by her surname. The name usually brought her pain, reminding her of the family who cared enough to share their name with her, but not enough to keep her. “It’s a nice name. I like it.”_

_Emma smiled shyly. Perhaps it was. “I’m assuming you haven’t heard of Granny’s Diner yet?”_

_“You know I’ve only been here an hour.”_

_“I was going to go out for lunch with some friends. I don’t think they’d mind if you joined us.”_

_He quirked an eyebrow, and_ goddammit _Emma hoped he would wipe the stupid, cocky smirk off his face because it reminded her of the way Neal used to tease her when they were younger. “Are you asking me out already, Swan?”_

_“No, I’m being a good neighbour,” she said, steeling herself immediately. She could feel the familiar beginnings of hope blossoming in her chest, and she didn’t need that. Especially not with someone she’d just met. “You can’t stay in Storybrooke without ever going to Granny’s.”_

_“Then I suppose I can’t say no.” She found herself spending the afternoon getting to know her new neighbour and introducing him to some of the other townsfolk. Truthfully, it was one of the most interesting afternoons she’d had for some time…._

“Well?” Henry said expectantly, bringing her back to the present. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Killian, and he just moved to town.”

An odd look came over Henry’s face as he studied her. “You seem to talk to him a lot.”

The look on his face worried her. “What’s your point, kid?”

“Do you like him?”

“Of course I do; he’s a nice enough guy.”

“Not like that. I mean in the way you liked Dad.”

She tried to laugh it off. “It’d be too soon to tell, don’t you think?”

“Not necessarily.”

 _Damn_ , her son was too wise for his own good.

“Why don’t you give him a chance?” Henry continued.

“I’ve only known the guy a few weeks.”

“Still, I think the two of you would get along.”

“You sound like your Uncle David.”

“I always thought this was more Aunt Mary Margaret’s thing.”

“I guess it’s both of them, really.”

Emma peered closely at her son. It was hard to believe that she and her brother weren’t actually related by blood, given the similarities between David and Henry. She met David Nolan when she was 10 and he was 12, when they both lived under the roof of a woman named Ingrid. While the other foster kids would mercilessly make fun of Emma, David would always jump in and make sure she never got hurt.

Both of them stayed in Ingrid’s home until the time David left for college, and by then they had forged a bond not unlike those of siblings. It seemed only natural, after then, to refer to each other as such. It was the only good thing that came out of Emma’s childhood in the foster system.

“You’re evading my point, Mom.”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Touché. But that doesn’t change the fact that I think you should give Killian a chance. Y’know, find happiness again.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I hope you’ll find someone like Dad again someday.”

There was that word again. _Hope_. The word she’d been trying to avoid, the word she’d been trying to protect Henry from. But five years is a long time to pretend that hope doesn’t exist. Five years is a long time to close herself off from the world. Maybe it was time to change that.

“I hope so too, kid.”

~*~

Emma started bumping into Killian more often. At times she wondered whether he was doing this on purpose, going out of his way to see her in places like the supermarket or Granny’s. If she was truthful with herself, she liked these little meetings; they were moments of normality in the otherwise chaotic world of the town sheriff. After one particularly awful night—why was the _sheriff_ stuck doing paperwork? She’d have to talk to her squad about it in the morning—she found Killian waiting patiently outside her door.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, slightly less surprised that she ought to have been. She mentally kicked herself for even expecting him to be there.

“I hear work as the town sheriff is hard, so I figured I’d take you out for a drink, get your mind off things.”

In spite of herself, a small smile crept on her face. “Are you asking me out?”

He shrugged. “Perhaps.”

She paused for a moment to consider her options as she felt hope blossom once more. She could decline his offer and return to a life that revolved around her family and work, a life where she didn’t need to be hurt by the hope of someone loving her the way Neal did. She wouldn’t have to watch Henry lose hope in love all over again if things didn’t work out. Or–

Or she could accept. Take a chance like Henry had told her to. Open up her heart again. Maybe things _would_ work out in the end. Henry wouldn’t be home for the night anyways, seeing as he was staying at a friend’s house to finish a project for school.

“I’d like that,” she finally agreed.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He  extended an arm to her, and she looped hers through. It was a strange feeling, simply because she’d never really done this before with Neal. It was comforting, too, to have someone else by her side again, because as much as she denied it, she missed Neal. She missed having a shoulder to lean on late at night, she missed having someone who was the one thing that was right in a very wrong world.

Not that that’s what Killian was to her.

( _He could be_ , a traitorous part of her whispered.)

(She told that part to shut up.)

~*~

It wasn’t a very long walk to the Rabbit Hole. It was as crowded as it always was, but somehow Killian found two empty seats at the bar. She’d been there often enough that the bartender knew exactly what she wanted, and Killian ordered rum. It wasn’t a popular choice among the locals, and she wondered where he developed the affinity to it.

“So, how have you been settling in?” Emma asked as their drinks arrived. She immediately took a sip of the glass in front of her; she was terrible at small talk, and there was no way she’d be able to handle this outing sober.

“Quite well, actually. I found work as a technician. It’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but it gets me by. Besides, I’m a man of the sea; I don’t mind it much.”

 _Now there’s a phrase you don’t hear often._ “What brought you to Storybrooke, anyways? We’re not exactly the most famous town in Maine.” At this he went silent, and Emma wondered if the question offended him. “If you don’t want to answer it, I get it. I’m sorry if—”

“No, it’s fine. It’s a fair question.” Another pause, as if he was trying to work out what to say. Then, “I wanted to get a fresh start somewhere isolated, somewhere far from Boston. That’s where I’m from.”

She briefly wondered if befriending Killian was a mistake. Was he some sort of ex-con? Was he running away from a murder or a theft? Would she have to arrest him right then and there? Was she wrong to have hope again?

“My brother just died.”

_Oh._

“We were serving in the navy. I was a lieutenant, he the captain of our ship. We were sent to a remote island to retrieve a healing plant when we were attacked by the locals. Liam…he was killed during the fight, as well as several members of our crew, and the remaining sailors and myself were forced to flee. That’s why I’m here. I needed to get away from Boston. It reminds me too much of him.”

“Killian, I’m so sorry,” Emma whispered.

He shook his head. “He was a good man; you would have liked him. Anyways, that’s also how I got this.” He held up his left hand, and Emma realised that it wasn’t a hand at all, but a metal prosthetic.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really. Better than walking around with just a stump for an arm. ” He cleared his throat and gave her a weak smile. “So, that’s my story. I don’t know much about you, Swan, other than the fact that you’re sheriff. Why don’t you tell me about you?”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s your story?”

“Don’t have one,” Emma said defensively. It was better that he believed that she was an ordinary woman rather than one who had her heart broken and her hope shattered way too many times.

“Everyone has a story to tell.”

“Yeah, well, mine’s a shit story.”

“I’d still like to hear it,” Killian said softly.

She could have lied. She could have fabricated some story about coming from a loving family and having an equally loving husband who unfortunately died trying to protect her and a happy son who missed his father for all the right reasons. She could have lied.

Instead, she found herself telling the truth. “Okay. Well, uh, the abridged version is that my parents didn’t want me, no other parents would want me, and I married a guy who, eventually, didn’t want me or our son.”

“Wow,” was all he had to say.

“I told you it was a shit story,” she muttered. Why did she do it? Why didn’t she just lie? It would have been much easier if Killian were to believe a lie.

“It’s not,” he insisted, and Emma appreciated the sentiment, but she knew a shit story when she saw one. She especially hated the look he was giving her, a mix of pity and understanding.

“Doesn’t matter. I’m over it.”

“You’re clearly not, Swan.”

She turned to face him directly, frustration clearly written on her face. “What does it matter to you anyways?”

His expression softened. “I know a broken heart when I see one.”

She felt her anger rising, her walls building themselves up again. “What, are you an expert or something?” she snapped. Maybe it was the alcohol talking; she had no real reason to be mad with Killian.

“I was you, once,” he said calmly. She noticed then that he’d hardly touched his rum; perhaps that was a smarter decision. “I loved a woman, a fellow lieutenant in the navy, who died after being shot in Bahrain. It took me years to move on from her.”

“At least she didn’t leave you,” Emma muttered, more to her glass than to Killian. “Not in the way mine did.”

It surprised her to feel his prosthetic on her arm. The coolness of the metal seeped through her thin shirt and forced her eyes to meet his. “I might not know what your specific scenario feels like, and I’m not going to pretend that I do, but I know what it feels like when you lose someone you love. You start closing yourself off, you start to think that love isn’t possible, that you’ll never get over the one you loved.”

“It’s been five years. I’m _over_ him,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Are you?” Killian challenged her. She scowled at him, and thankfully he got the message; she was glad he was the type of person to back down when asked. “I’m sorry if I pushed you.”

For some reason, that made her feel less upset. “No it’s fine. I just…needed to let that out, I guess.”

“Did it help?”

“Yeah, I think it did.” She downed the rest of her glass and added, “I also think I’m ready to go home.” She started rummaging around her pocket before she saw Killian finish his rum and throw a bill onto the counter. “You don’t have to—” she began to protest.

“But I want to.”

She saw the pleading look in his eyes and decided to let him have this, if he so insisted. It was just a friend paying for a friend, right?

(A little voice in her head told her to stop deluding herself. _This was a date and you know it._ )

He stood up and offered his arm to her once more, and they took the walk back to their building together in silence. It gave Emma a moment to reflect on the course of the night, how much was shared between them. She often tried to avoid the subject of Neal when she met new people, and she still wasn’t sure what made her share the truth with Killian.

( _You trust him_ , the voice whispered. _You’re falling for him_.)

“Thank you, Swan,” he said suddenly when they reached the floor of their apartment.

“For what? You’re the one who paid for everything.”

He chuckled. “Aye, that I did. No, I wanted to thank you for listening tonight. I…haven’t told anyone that story in a long time.”

She gave him a small smile in return. “Thank you for listening to mine.”

“Goodnight, Swan.” He disappeared into his apartment, and it was only after the soft _click_ of the door locking that Emma had the courage to return it with a whispered “goodnight, Killian” of her own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand here’s part 2! I’ll say now that this part took a lot of inspiration from the very first proper CS date back in 4x04, and I guess that can kind of serve as a summary too. That date was certainly fun to rewatch, but I think it was more rewriting it for the context of this fic. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this part, because the final part is coming soon!

Killian had just asked her out.

Again.

And she accepted.

Something had shifted in their dynamic ever since the Rabbit Hole. Emma couldn’t quite identify it, but being around him felt…easier. She wasn’t holding herself back. She could feel herself giving him a chance. Perhaps it was everything that was shared between them, the stories of pain and loss. It was a welcome change from most of the other townsfolk, who not only saw her as “the sheriff” but also “the woman with the son whose father left him.”

She found herself that afternoon scrutinising herself in the mirror of her small office at the station. It was one of the slower days—in place as small as Storybrooke, there were days that crime did seem to sleep, after all—and normally a day she cherished as an opportunity to relax and check in with her squad. Today, however, most of them were off on patrol, giving her more time to think and worry about her impending date with Killian.

The knock on her door startled her out of her thoughts, and she looked past her image to see the reflection of her brother smirking at her from the doorway. “God, David, you scared me.”

“Thinking about Killian, huh?” If they hadn’t grown up together, it would be scary how easily David always seemed to be able to pinpoint the root of her problems and worries.

She sighed in defeat. “Am I that obvious?”

“Henry is. He told me all about it.” He crossed the office in a few steps and met her eyes in the mirror. “You’ll be fine, Emma.”

“I doubt that,” she scoffed.

He spun her around gently so that they were face-to-face, and she could see concern in his eyes. “What is it, Emma?”

It seemed she couldn’t sigh enough that day. “He asked me out for dinner and I just…. What if this turns out to be another failure, like what happened with Neal? I don’t think I could live through that again.”

“It won’t,” he reassured her, pulling her in for a hug and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “Besides, if it does, I’m going to have a little _chat_ with him.”

“I can take care of myself!” she protested into his shoulder.

“Nobody messes with Dave’s little sister,” he continued with overdramatic vehemence, as if she hadn’t spoken.

“I’m the sheriff of this town!”

“And I’m still your brother.”

She shoved him away good-naturedly. “Aren’t you supposed to be on patrol?”

“I was, then I saw you moping in here by yourself and knew I should stop by. Besides, Lancelot has it covered.”

She smiled, warmth spreading throughout her body from her brother’s gesture. “You’re the best brother a girl could ever ask for, you know that?”

“I know.” They both snorted at his false arrogance; it didn’t suit his kind and humble demeanor. “In all seriousness, though, you have nothing to worry about. You’ll be fine.”

“I just really like him, I guess.”

“Hey, that’s a good thing,” David reassured her. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m just scared to hope.” There it was, her biggest fear finally voiced out to the one person she trusted more than anything in the world. “I’m scared that if I let myself hope, things will go wrong again.”

David sighed. “Do you remember what I said to you, after Neal left?”

“That you would hunt him down and introduce his nose to your fist?”

“I still haven’t gotten to doing that,” he mused for her benefit. “No, I mean that you’ll find someone more deserving of you than him someday.”

“Yeah, I remember that.”

“Why can’t Killian be it?”

“What do you think of him?” she asked back. Her brother was often a good judge of character, and sometimes he might as well have taken on the father role in her life, if his speeches to Neal had been anything to go by.

“I think…,” he began, seeming to mull over his answer. “I think Killian deserves you, more than Neal ever could.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He winked at her. “Brotherly intuition.”

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Get back to patrol, officer.”

“Yes, sheriff,” he chuckled before disappearing out of the station, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more.

~*~

Her evening didn’t go much better. She stared at the two dresses laid out on her bed—one a simple beige, the other a more flamboyant red—and decided that she would definitely need a second opinion. Luckily, David’s wife picked up on the first ring.

“Emma!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. “I thought you had a special night to be preparing for.”

“I’m assuming David already told you that?” Her sister-in-law hummed in agreement before Emma continued, “I’m trying to figure out what to wear, and I wanted your help.”

“Why didn’t you just ask Ruby?”

“Because Ruby would tell me to put on my tightest dress to ensure I’ll get laid tonight. Besides, he’s taking me to some fancy Italian place downtown, and I want to look appropriate. And…I want to look nice for him.”

“Ooh, our little Emma’s growing up!”

Despite herself, heat rose in Emma’s cheeks. “I’ve been married before,” she protested weakly, but somehow this felt different in a way she couldn’t quite identify.

“I know, it’s just that…well, it’s been five years since Neal, and while I don’t know what he was like when you first met, I’m happy you’re opening yourself up to love again.”

A ghost of a smile passed Emma’s lips. “Thank you, Mary Margaret,” she said softly. Perhaps she should open herself up and give Killian a chance, after all. She cleared her throat and got back to the problem at hand. “I was wondering which dress you think I should wear.”

“The beige one,” Mary Margaret said, without hesitation. How did she know it was one of Emma’s options to begin with? “It brings out your eyes.”

Did it? She picked up the dress and held it in front of her to confirm it in the mirror. A sudden lump welled in her throat as a memory resurfaced. “The last time I wore this was on my last date with Neal,” she whispered absentmindedly.

Mary Margaret’s voice on the line surprised her. “All the more reason to let Killian see you in it.”

She took another peek at herself in the mirror and stood a little taller. Even if the dress triggered painful memories of the past, that didn’t mean it couldn’t be a part of wonderful memories in the future.

“Just take this chance, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, as if she could read Emma’s thoughts. “I promise this’ll all work out.”

“You think?” She felt like a child again, asking such a question. But so much of her heart was at stake, the question weighing so much more than the two words it contained.

“I _know_ , honey. And if it doesn’t, I hear David’s got a string of threats lined up for him the second he breaks your heart.”

Emma let out a much-needed laugh, the tension in her body easing up a little. “I guess you’re right. Thanks for all the help.”

“Go get ‘im, tiger,” Mary Margaret urged her before hanging up.

Getting ready was a lot easier after that. She styled her hair up in a high ponytail and slipped on a pair of skin-coloured heels. Finally deeming herself ready, she had one more task to complete before she could join Killian. “Henry, I’m going out,” she said, watching him from his doorway.

“With Killian?” he asked, not even missing a beat.

“No, I’m going for a girl’s night out.”

He turned around then, his work abandoned as he gave her a quick once-over. “No, you’re going to see Killian.”

“And how would you know that?”

“The last time you wore that dress, you were with Dad.”

 _How does he even remember that?_ Her silence must have been all the confirmation he needed, because he arched an eyebrow and smirked at her.

“Get back to work,” she commanded, utterly flustered. “I’ll be home before ten.”

“Say hi to him for me!” Henry called as she reached the door.

“I’m not seeing him!” she yelled back before closing the door, just in time to miss his chuckled “sure” and audible smirk.

~*~

The short walk down the hallway seemed to take much longer than it usually did. She idly wondered what Henry must have been thinking. Was he as hopeful for her to find love again as she was? She decided that if she wanted something with Killian, it would have to be a secret from Henry. If their relationship ended badly, she didn’t want to have to drag Henry down with her. Not again.

She made a move to knock, but her fist froze in midair as Killian opened the door. He’d ditched his usual leather and heavy kohl in favour of a smart-looking button-up shirt and black jeans. “You look stunning, Swan,” he breathed, drinking her in.

“You look…” she began, at a loss for words.

“I know,” he supplied unhelpfully, the blush rising in Emma’s cheeks once more.

“May I come in?” she asked, still smiling but flustered all the same. He stepped aside, and for the first time since he moved to Storybrooke Emma was able to see the inside of his apartment. It was the same size as her own, filled with trinkets, presumably from his time in the navy.

Killian ventured into his bedroom— _no Emma don’t let your thoughts go there you’re not Ruby_ —and she picked up a photo frame sitting on the coffee table. Smiling back at her were two men, one of them a young Killian, the other an older man with brown hair and kind blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sun.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Killian enter the room. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words died on his lips as he saw her with the frame. “Is this your brother?” she asked softly.

“Aye,” he replied, equally as soft. “That’s Liam.”

“He looks like a good man.”

“He was a better man than I.” A beat of silence passed between them before Killian cleared his throat and presented a single red rose to her.

“Wow, you really went all out,” Emma mused, replacing the frame to gratefully accept the rose.

“Now you know what I look like when trying to impress a lass.”

“You’re trying to impress me?”

“This is nothing; wait until you see the restaurant.” He gave her an over-dramatic bow and extended an arm to her. “M’lady.”

She took his arm with a laugh and they set off for the restaurant. It was a route that, oddly enough, she didn’t seem to recognise. They took turns through bustling streets and busy roads, and finally arrived at a quaint, stereotypically Italian restaurant.

“Well, this is it,” Killian said proudly, ushering her in. It was a homey little place, with a few tables and a bar at the back.

“How did I never find out about this place?” she wondered to herself. “I’ve lived here my whole life!”

“It opened recently by a friend of mine,” Killian admitted, scratching his ear.

“Didn’t know you were making friends so quickly,” she quipped.

“I don’t need your help to befriend people, you know,” he said, not unkindly.

A waiter stood by their table as they approached, menus in his hand and ready to serve them. “Killian!” he called as they approached.

“August!” he replied, a smile lighting up his face. Perhaps the waiter wasn’t so much a _waiter_ as he was the _owner._

“And you must be Emma,” August continued, moving to shake her hand. “Killian’s told me about you.”

“Has he now?” She smirked, settling into her chair. The flush in Killian’s cheeks was all she needed to know.

“I really haven’t…,” Killian began to protest, but August stopped him.

“Please, I’m assuming you’re not here to argue all night, are you?”

“Not with her, mate,” Killian said mischievously. “You, on the other hand….”

“I think we’ll order,” Emma cut in. As much as she’d love to see the two grown men pretend to fight, she really was hungry.

“I think that’s a fantastic idea,” August agreed, a writing pad out and ready to go.

They ended up ordering simple pastas and glasses of red wine. August joined them partway through their dinner, and Emma learned that he opened the restaurant for his father, Marco. Though a handyman by day, his recipes were, to August, top class. Emma couldn’t disagree with him.

The night flew by way too quickly, and soon Emma found herself bidding August “goodnight” and returning to her complex with Killian.

“Did you enjoy it?” he asked anxiously once they reached their floor.

“Yeah, I loved it.” She blushed a little and asked, “Do you want to come in and have coffee with my son who likes the idea of us going out together a little _too_ much?”

They both laughed, and Killian replied, “I suppose we'll just have to wait until next time.”

“Next time? I don't remember asking.”

“You really should up your game, Swan.” He turned serious for a moment and asked, “Will you go out with me again?”

She smiled shyly. “I’d like that.”

He kissed her then, and it was soft and sweet and everything she hadn’t realised she missed. The problem was, she was still Emma, with her broken heart and waning hope, so she pulled back and gasped out, “Wait.”

A look of confusion and hurt flickered over Killian’s face. “What is it, love?”

_He thinks it’s his fault._

She’d been so careful to let him in when she was sure she was ready, and yet she still found herself doubting this, doubting _him_. She swallowed thickly and said, “If we’re going to do this, I just want to know where you stand.”

“Where I stand?”

She forced down the frustration building in her chest and avoided his gaze. As much as she hated the _it’s not you, it’s me_ excuse (after all, what had Neal said to her?), she couldn’t think of a better way to voice her insecurities. “I just want to know if…if you want this.”

She felt his palm cupping her cheek and found herself staring into the deep blue of his eyes. “I want this, Emma,” he said affirmatively, and if the intensity of the blue was anything to go by, he wasn’t lying. “The question is, do you?”

“Yes,” she whispered, perhaps more for her sake than for Killian’s. She _did_ want this. She wanted someone to love again. She wanted someone who’d love her back.

She wanted to feel hope again.

So she cleared her throat and said “yes” a little louder this time, as her lips sought out the taste of his.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! The end of the fic! It’s a bit on the short side, but I still had no idea this story would grow to become a three-part. I’m quite happy it did, and I hope you are, too!

They managed to date in secret for all of six weeks before Henry found out. She knew he’d figure it out eventually, but she was hoping for a few more weeks to break the news to him.

(Subconsciously she knew she never wanted to tell Henry, just in case things didn’t work out, but it’s not like he was an ignorant kid or anything. Nor was she exactly she most subtle of people.)

It was after another one of their (continually successful, to Emma’s slight surprise) dates that she decided to invite Killian into their home. She wasn’t entirely sure what Henry was up to, but she figured that if he was awake, she could dismiss it as a friendly, neighbourly chat over coffee.

The lights to the living room were off when she tentatively pushed open the door. She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding as Killian asked, “What’s with all the secrecy, love?”

“Henry,” she said simply. The quirk of his eyebrow prompted her to continue, so she added, “He just really expects us to be dating.”

“Aren’t we?” Killian pressed a quick kiss to her lips and wandered into the kitchen like he owned the place. ( _And perhaps he would, one day._ ) She found him rummaging through the fridge, its cool white light washing over his face. “Want anything?”

“I’m good,” Emma said, content to just watch him. It had been a rough few weeks, learning to open her heart again, learning to love again. After continued pep talks from David, she slowly began to realise that she shouldn’t be afraid, and that if Killian truly was the right one, it would only get easier from there.

The lights flickered on suddenly, and Emma found herself face to face with a very smug-looking Henry. Behind her, she heard the fridge door suddenly slam shut, perhaps due to Killian’s surprise. “I knew it,” Henry said, shaking his head. I _fucking_ knew it.”

_“Henry,”_ Killian scolded.

“I knew it,” he pressed on. “I knew you’d be the one to make Mom happy again.”

“Henry, we’re not—”

“Dating? _Sure_ you’re not. You can’t lie to me, Mom. I know you, and I know you make each other happy.”

She _really_ couldn’t hide anything from him, it seemed. She sighed and decided to tell him the truth. Things with Killian seemed stable, and he had David’s approval. She couldn’t think of any other reason to withhold this from her son other than _she was scared_.

She also decided it was time to stop being scared.

“Well, you’re right, kid. You got us. We’ve been dating for six weeks.”

He leaned casually on the kitchen counter. “I would have thought it’d be longer, but either way, it seems that Operation Cobra was a success.”

“Operation Cobra?” Killian repeated. “And what’s that, lad?”

“My plan to get my mom to believe again, of course.”

“Believe in what?”

“In love.”

Killian’s eyes widened at Henry’s response. “And you thought I was the one who could give it to her.”

He shrugged innocently. “How could you not be? You make her so happy, it’s kind of hard to miss.”

“And how could you be so certain Operation Cobra would work?” Emma smirked, not unkindly. Here was the son she knew and loved, with his Operations and crazy plans for adventures.

“Didn’t you realise how often I told you I was staying over at someone’s house to give you guys space?” He looked so proud of himself, Emma didn’t have the heart to tell him off for interfering with her love life.

“You haven’t been bothering Violet’s parents too much, have you?” she asked instead.

“No, most of the time I stayed with Uncle David. He and Aunt Mary Margaret fully supported my plan.”

“Of course they would.” Emma rolled her eyes. She could only imagine how much more embarrassing for Killian this situation would be if her brother and sister-in-law were here too.

“So, is there something you’d like to say to me, maybe?” Henry asked innocently. “Like a ‘thank you for helping us get together’?”

“Go do your homework, kid,” she laughed, ruffling his hair. “You’ve done enough ‘helping’ for us.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna call Uncle David about this,” he said, running off to his room.

Emma exhaled a laugh as soon as he left and turned to Killian. “I am so sorry about that.”

“Don’t be.” He had a serious set to his face, and she couldn’t help but ask if anything was wrong. “Was Henry right?” he asked in reply.

That certainly wasn’t what she expected. “About what?”

“About me being able to give you hope again.”

_Tell him the truth, Emma. It’s now or never._ Despite the sudden, frantic pounding of her heart in her chest, Emma admitted, “Yes. He was right about that.”

Killian went silent, and Emma tried to read the expression on his face. As she watched him, doubts from the first few weeks after Neal left came flooding back into her head. Killian had basically just found out how much Neal’s departure had affected her, had affected her views on love and hope. Was it still possible for him to love her?

“I want to tell you something, Swan,” he said after what felt like the longest silence in the world. “Could we sit down?”

Silently, she took his hand and led him to the living room. As they sank down on the couch, she felt Killian’s grip tighten and began to see fear in his eyes. She felt her own heartbeat hammering in her chest and prepared herself for the worst.

“I…haven’t been completely honest with you, Swan. I have a secret.” He fell silent again, perhaps mulling over his words.

“You can tell me anything, Killian,” she prompted.

“Right. Well, uh, do you remember when I told you about my first love?”

“The navy lieutenant?”

“Yes, her. My secret is…I never thought I'd be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah…to believe that I could find someone else…that is, until I met you.”

Emma felt that her eyes must have been bulging out of her skull by now, she was so surprised. “Killian, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that just as I’ve brought you hope again, you’ve done the same for me.” He smiled shyly and avoided her gaze, choosing instead to focus on their intertwined hands. “So, thank you for that.”

“I guess we’re both helping each other, then,” she mused quietly, focusing on their hands as well. He muttered something incomprehensible in reply, something that sounded like….

Something that sounded like  _ I love you _ .

“What was that, Killian?” she said, her breath hitching in her throat.

When their gazes met, she noticed that the blues of his eyes had turned a shade darker. “I love you, Emma Swan,” he said simply, “and I’m so thankful you came into my life.”

“I’m thankful you moved to Storybrooke, and….” She took a deep breath, and words she hadn’t used in at least five years tumbled out of her mouth. “I love you too, Killian.”

Somehow their lips met in the middle, and every kiss they shared grew deeper and deeper until Emma felt that there was no way she’d forget the feel of Killian’s lips on hers. Someone cleared their throat behind them, and they sprang apart to find Henry smirking at them. “Enjoying yourselves?”

“Henry!” she exclaimed, heat rising in her cheeks. “What–what are you doing?”

“I just called Uncle David. He’s  _ very _ excited about this.”

“I’m sure he is.” Emma rolled her eyes playfully. “It’s late; don’t you have other things to do other than bother your uncle?”

“Nope, none that I can think of.”

“Speaking of the hour,” Killian interjected, “I suppose I should be heading home too.”

“You live down the hall,” Henry protested.

“I have a big morning ahead of me, lad.” He gave Henry a light pat on the back and kissed Emma on the cheek. “Goodnight, love,” he whispered to her before opening the door.

After Emma locked the door, she caught Henry staring at her again. It was the same expression on his face as the day he’d first inquired about Killian, so long ago. “What is it, kid?”

“I was just thinking,” he began thoughtfully. “Does this mean you’re giving it a second chance?”

Emma didn’t even want to think about all the things _it_ could be. Killian? Love?

Hope?

The answer was simple, she decided. She’d know for a long time but always refused to acknowledge it. Little by little, Killian had brought love back into her life, and with it, hope. Maybe she didn’t need to be scared of it after all.

“Yes, Henry. I am.”


End file.
